French's International Copyrighted (in England, her Col- 
onies, and the United States) Edition of the 
Works of the Best Authors 

- ■■■"!. iiiiiiiiiiiiiimii ii.iij iiiiiiniiiniiiiiiiiMiiiMiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiitiiMiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiniiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiM, 



No. 428 



IN THE DARK 



A PLAY IN ONE ACT> 



BY 
LILIAN BENNET-THOMPSON 

AND 

GEORGE HUBBARD 



All Rights Reserved 
Copyright, 1922, by Samuel French 



Price 30 Cents 



New York 

SAMUEL FRENCH 

Publisher 

28-30 West 38th Street 



London 

SAMUEL FRENCH, Ltd. 

26 Southampton Street 

STRAND 



IIIIIIIIIMIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIilllMllllllllllllllinilllllllllllllllllllllllllllllllllllllllllllllllllllllll 



THE REJUVENATION OF AUNT MARY. 

The famous comedy in three acts, by Anne Warner. 7 males, 6 
females. Three interior scenes. Costumes modern. Plays 2J4 hours. 

This is a genuinely funny comedy with splendid parts for "Aunt 
Mary," "Jack," her lively nephew; "Lucinda," a New England an- 
cient maid of all work; "Jack's" three chums; the Girl "Jack" loves; 
"Joshua," Aunt Mary's hired man, etc. 

"Aunt Mary" was played by May Robson in New York and on tour 
for over two years, and it is sure to be a big success wherever pro- 
duced. We strongly recommend it. Price, 60 Cents. 



MRS. BUMSTEAD-LEIGH. 

A pleasing comedy, in three acts, by Harry James Smith, author of 
"The Tailor-Made Man." 6 males, 6 females. One interior scene. 
Costumes modern. Plays 2J4 hours. 

Mr. Smith chose for his initial comedy the complications arising 
from the endeavors of a social climber to land herself in the altitude 
peopled by hyphenated names — a theme i permitting innumerable com- 
plications, according to the spirit of the writer. 

This most successful comedy was toured for several seasons by Mrs. 
Fiske with enormous success. Price, 60 Cents. 



MRS. TEMPLE'S TELEGRAM. 

A most successful farce in three acts, by Frank Wyatt and Wil- 
liam Morris. 5 males, 4 females. One interior scene stands through- 
out the three acts. Costumes modern. Plays 2 l / 2 hours. 

"Mrs. Temple's Telegram" is a sprightly farce in which there is 
an abundance of fun without any taint of impropriety or any ele- 
ment of offence. As noticed by Sir Walter Scott, "Oh, what a 
tangled web we weave when first we practice to deceive." 

There is not a dull moment in the entire farce, and from the time 
the curtain rises until it makes the final drop the fun is fast and 
furious. A very exceptional farce. Price, 60 Cents. 



THE NEW CO-ED. 

A comedy in four acts, by Marie Doran, author of "Tempest and 
Sunshine," etc. Characters, 4 males, 7 females, though any number 
of boys and girls can be introduced in the action of the play. One 
interior and one exterior scene, but can be easily played in one inte- 
rior scene. Costumes modern. Time, about 2 hours. 

The theme of this play is the coming of a new student to the col- 
lege, her reception by the scholars, her trials and final triumph. 

There are three especially good girls' parts, Letty, Madge and 
Estelle, but the others have plenty to do. "Punch" Doolittle and 
George Washington Watts, a gentleman of color, are two particularly 
good comedy characters. We can strongly recommend "The New 
Co-Ed" to high schools and amateurs. Price, 30 Cents. 

(The Above Are Subject to Royalty When Produced) 
SAMUEL FRENCH, 28-30 West 38th Street, New York City 

New and Explicit Descriprive Catalogue Mailed Free on Request 



IN THE DARK 



A PLAY IN ONE ACT 



By 
LILIAN BENNET-THOMPSON 

AND 

GEORGE HUBBARD 



All Rights Reserved 
Copyright, 1932, by Samuel French 



New York 

SAMUEL FRENCH 

Publisher 

28-30 West 38th Street 



London 

SAMUEL FRENCH, Ltd. 

26 Southampton Street 

STRAND 



IP 



OS* g 



Copyright, 1922, by Samuel French 
All Rights Reserved 

"IN THE DARK" is fully protected by copyright, and 
all rights are reserved. 

Permission to act, to read publicly, or to make any use 
of this play must be obtained from Samuel French, 28-30 
West 38th St., New York. 

It may be presented by amateurs upon payment of a 
royalty of five dollars for each performance, payable to 
Samuel French one week before the date when the play is 
given. 

Professional rates quoted on application. 

Whenever the play is produced the following notice must 
appear on all programs, printing and advertising for the 
play : "Produced by special arrasgement with Samuel 
French of New York." 



SEP 23 a 



72 

>CI.D « 19!) 2 



on? j 



CHARACTERS 

Doctor Herrick The great eye specialist 

George Ashfield The doctor's secretary 

Mrs. Mason The janitress 

Gracie Her little daughter 



IN THE DARK 



Scene : The Doctor's study. Door left centre, lead- 
ing to corridor. Door right, to operating room. 
Doctor's desk, right centre, so that he will almost 
face audience. Desk is littered with books, 
papers, etc., and holds an electric drop light 
with shade. Telephone instrument on desk. 
Secretary's desk left. Upright letter file against 
wall, left. Small stand, holding plaster bust of 
Hippocrates, left of centre entrance. Book 
cases, chairs, etc. Typewriter on Ashfield's 
desk. 

Discovered: Dr. Herrick, sitting in swivel chair at 
his desk, writing rapidly. He is a big man, with 
an extremely irascible and irritable manner. He 
is about middle age, and has thick gray hair. 
George Ash field, the secretary, is sitting at 
desk left, writing with pen. 

Time: Eight o'clock p.m. 

Place: New York City. 

(Herrick fusses with papers. Starts to write, has 
trouble with pen, cocks his head to side, listens, 
turns and glares at Ashfield again. Rises, 
strides across stage, reaches over Secretary's 
shoulder, yanks pen out of his hand and hurls 
it on to floor.) 

Herrick. (Harshly) What do you mean by 
using that infernal squeaky thing in my office? How 
many times have I told you I must have quiet, eh? 



6 IN THE DARK 

Ash field. (Startled, looks up, half rising) I'm 
very sorry. Doctor. I had no idea 

Herrick. (With withering scorn) Had no idea? 
That's nothing new. (Stamps back to his own desk 
and sits down. Then turns around.) How do you 
expect I'm going to finish writing this speech before 
I sail for London to-morrow? Do you think I can 
work in Bedlam? Are you going to keep quiet? 
Hey? Are you? 

Ash field. Why, certainly, Doc 

Herrick. What are you writing, anyway? 

Ashfield. A letter to Mrs. Morehouse. She — 

Herrick. (Interrupting) Let me see it. What 
have you said? (Ashfield rises and starts to go 
to him, with letter in hand.) Read it, read it ! What, 
are you standing up for ? You're not going to make 
a speech, are you? Oh, sit down, sit down! (Leans 
back, scozvling.) 

Ashfield. (Reading) "My dear Mrs. More- 
house : Dr. Herrick regrets exceedingly that, as he is 
sailing to-morrow to attend the International Con- 
vention of Oculists in London, he will be unable to 
give you the appointment for which you ask. He 
desires me to say that he is more than sorry that 
your eyes have been giving you so much trouble, 
and suggests that in his unavoidable absence you 
consult " 

(Herrick has been squirming around in his chair 
during the reading of the letter, looking more 
and more displeased. At this point, he can re- 
strain his impatience no longer.) 

Herrick. Poppycock ! What do you mean by 
apologizing for me? (Leaps to his feet, dashes 
across stage, snatches letter from Ashfield's hands, 
tears it across and throws pieces on floor.) Tell 
her I won't treat her, do you hear? She's so pleased 
with her beautiful classic nose that she won't wear 



IN THE DARK 7 

glasses, and then comes boohooing to me that her 
eyes hurt her. But I'm not society and I'm not 
Wall Street. I take no interest in her social monkey 
shines or her husband's Stock Exchange hold-ups. 
She needn't come here again. I won't have her in 
the office. Tell her to go to someone who's got time 
to waste on her. 

Ashfield. To whom shall I tell her to go? 

Herrick. Tell her to go to the devil ! 

Ashfield. Yes, sir. 

(Herrick turns his back and goes on with his work. 
Comedy business of getting up, adjusting chair 
and settling himself to work. Business of 
trouble with pens, light, etc., ad. lib. Writes a 
fezv words and then begins to search through 
litter on desk. Grumbles irritably. Tosses 
papers right and left.) 

Herrick. (To Ashfield) Go to the file and 
get me my notes on the Hammond operation. 

Ashfield. I think 

Herrick. (With heavy irony) Do you? Is it 
so unusual that you have to stand and talk about it? 
Get them ; they're in the file. 

Ashfield. They're not there. I was looking for 
them this morning. 

Herrick. Don't tell me they're not there; I put 
them there myself. Get them. 

Ashfield. Yes, sir. 

Herrick. That operation on the Hammond child 
was the best thing I ever did. It was a most inter- 
esting case. 

(Ashfield, who has taken a few uncertain steps, 
suddenly turns and starts to speak eagerly.) 

Ashfield. Doctor, I want to speak to you about 
a case 



8 IN THE DARK 

Herrick. (Fiercely) Case? Didn't I tell you 
not to mention that word to me ? 

Ashfield. It will only take a moment. 

Herrick. I haven't a moment to spare. If you've 
got anything- to say, it can keep until I get back 
from London. 

Ashfield. (Desperately) But it can't keep, 
Doctor. It's a case of 

Herrick. (Cutting him short and taking up his 
sentence) A case of your doing as I tell you. 
You're keeping me waiting, sir. How am I going 
to finish this address if you stand here talking by 
the hour? Don't you know I want to get a little 
rest out of my voyage? Sea trip always agrees 
with me — braces me up — gives me an appetite. 
Damme, it makes me feel like a new man. 

Ashfield. But, Doctor, I just want to explain — 

Herrick. Get me those notes. 

Ashfield. (With gesture of despair) Yes, sir. 
(Goes to file.) 

Herrick. (Before he has time to look at even 
one paper) Well, well, where are they? Are you 
going to take all night ? Can't you do such a simple 
thing as find a notebook? Give it to me, give it 
to me. 

Ashfield. (Searching as fast as he can) Yes, 
sir, I 

Herrick. (Rising and going toward him) Never 
mind, never mind ! I'll get them myself. You 
never found anything yet. 

(Crosses quickly and pushes Ashfield out of the 
way. Comedy business of looking through the 
file. Pulls out handfuls of papers aud strews 
them on floor. Suddenly stops and wheels on 
Ashfield, who has been standing respectfully 

by.) 

Herrick. It's in the file in the operating room. 



IN THE DARK 9 

And you knew it ! Why didn't you tell me, instead 
of letting me look for an hour? Answer me that! 

Ashfield. But, Doctor, I tried to tell you, but 
you said 

Herrick. Suppose I did? What of it? It's your 
business to know where things are. 

Ashfield. I'll get them, sir. 

Herrick. I'll get them myself. I can't wait all 
night for you. (Crosses quickly and exits right, into 
operating room.) 

(Ashfield makes gesture of comic despair, laughs 
and begins to pick up scattered papers. Enter 
Mrs. Mason left centre, dressed in shabby black 
gozvn. She is a little zvisp of a woman, pale 
and tired looking. Her hair is drawn plainly 
off her face and screwed into a knot at the back 
of her head. Her eyes are red with zveeping. 
She looks furtively about, sees that the doctor 
is not in the room, and comes slowly down 
stage, carrying a cloth duster in her hand.) 

Mrs. Mason. (In a low, wistful voice) Good 
evenin', Mr. Ashfield. I'm sorry to be so late. I 
oughter been here to dust earlier, but Gracie, she — 

Ashfield. (Advancing to her hastily) Well, 
you can't do it now. Dr. Herrick will never know 
the difference, anyhow. And, for heaven's sake, 
don't make any noise. Every little sound irritates 
him, so you'd better not wait. (Turns away to 
desk.) 

Mrs. Mason. Did you — did you ask him about 
Gracie, Mr. Ashfield, sir? (Speaks very patheti- 
cally and plaintively.) 

Ashfield. (Shaking his head sorrowfully) 1 
tried to, two or three times, but he wouldn't listen 
to me. He cut me off short, almost before I opened 
my month. I'm sorry, Mrs. Mason, but I'm afraid 



io IN THE DARK 

it's no use. If I should attempt to speak to him 
now, he'd simply refuse to listen to me. 

(Mrs. Mason begins to cry quietly.) 

Mrs. Mason. (In choked voice, as she zvipes 
eyes with apron) Oh, it's cruel, that's what it is, 
Mr. Ashfield. You know, she doesn't understand 
she's blind ; she thinks she's bein' punished for some- 
thing she done, and it fair breaks my heart to hear 
her cryin' to be let out of the dark. This mornin' 
she said she'd be good all the time if we'd only let 
her see the light again. (Ashfield gives exclama- 
tion of sympathy.) And my doctor, he can't do 
nothin'. He's been awful good, but he says it's 
Doctor Herrick's operation, and no one else can do 
it. I know we ain't got money enough to pay him 
right off, but I'd work hard Mason'd do any- 
thing to get enough. 

Ashfield. I'm so sorry for you. 

Mrs. Mason. It's like to kill her father. He 
broke down and cried this mornin' when she begged 
him not to punish her no more. She says she didn't 
mean to be bad, and she keeps askin' what she done 
for us to shut her up in the dark. She'll sit by the 
hour and try to see her dolly. She'll hold it up and 
feel its face with her little hands, and then she'll ask 
me maybe will I let her see it soon. Oh, Mr. Ash- 
field, won't you please, please ask him to help her? 
Tell him we'll pay him as soon as we can. Me and 
Mason, we'll work our fingers to the bone to let 
Gracie see again. 

Ashfield. Poor little kiddie. (Eagerly) I'll 
do my best, Mrs. Mason, but — (A hopeless note 
creeps into his voice) — I'm afraid it's no use. 

(Mrs. Mason turns away, her apron to her eyes, 
bitterly sobbing. She knocks against the small 



IN THE DARK n 

stand at left of centre entrance and the plaster 
cast falls to the floor and breaks. She gives a 
frightened Utile cry and stoops to pick up the 
fragments, trying to piece them together in a 
dazed may. Herrick suddenly appears in door- 
way right.) 

Herrick. What the devil was that? f^« Mrs. 
Mason. ) What have you done, anyway? Can't 
you move around without breaking everything in 
the place? 

Mrs. Mason. (Rising from her knees and taking 
an uncertain step toward him) Doctor, I — you — ■ 

Herrick. That's right. Now you start to talk. 
Everybody talk. Isn't it bad enough for you to 
come in here and smash up all the furniture, with- 
out trying to talk about it all night? Well, Ash- 
field, haven't you something to say? Wouldn't you 
like to hold forth for a while? Upon my soul, I 
believe there's a conspiracy on foot to keep me work- 
ing all the way over to London. You know it's the 
only chance I'll get to rest and enjoy myself, but 
you will insist upon taking up my time. 

Mrs. Mason. Oh, Doctor— 

Herrick. Oh, go on, go on downstairs, where 
you belong. Not another word. (Paces hack and 
forth, up and down, irritably.) 

(^Mrs. Mason picks up duster, and with a piteous 
glance at Ashfield, exits. Ashfield drops 
into his chair, showing anger and indignation.) 

Herrick. (Furiously at Ashfield) How the 
devil did she manage to do that? 

Ashfield. She struck her arm against the stand. 

Herrick. Well, what did she do that for? Why 
didn't she look where she was going? Tearing 
around like a mad bull ! 



12 IN THE DARK 

Ashfield. (Controlling himself with difficulty, 
but speaking quietly) She didn't mean to do it. 

Herrick. Oh, bah! 

Ashfield. The poor woman was crying. 

Herrick.- (Surprised. With raised eyebrozvs) 
Huh! Crying? (Looks blankly at Ashfield. 
Then with return to gruff manner ) Well, what the 
devil is she snivelling about, eh? 

Ashfield. She was crying because — Doctor, you 
remember I wanted to tell you about a case — 

Herrick. (Throwing up Jiis head and giving vent 
to all his irritation and anger) Ashfield, I've told 
you several times that I didn't want to hear about 
any cases. You've been annoying me for two days 
with this kind of talk, and I don't propose to endure 
it any longer. You take too much upon yourself, 
sir. While you're in my employ, you'll oblige me 
by doing as you're told. Understand that fully. 
I've had this in mind to tell you for some time and 
now it's out., Do I make myself clear? 

Ashfield. Perfectly clear, Dr. Herrick. 

Herrick. I'm glad of it. 

Ashfield. (With suppressed passion) And I've 
had it in my mind for some time to tell you that you 
can have my resignation, to take effect now or any 
time you please. And now that you understand so 
much, there are a few other things I want to impress 
upon you. First of all, I'm not a doormat. No 
man can talk to me the way you have to-night and 
get away with it. But that's not the point. Ever 
since I've been here, I've stood for your irritable, 
disagreeable temper — (Herrick gives an inarticu- 
late exclamation of rage and half rises from his chair. 
Ashfield goes right on) — because I knew you were 
a great man in your profession and I was proud to 
be identified with you. Although you act like a 
brute, I did give you credit for common humanity. 
But after this exhibition of callous indifference to 



IN THE DARK 13 

suffering which you might so easily relieve, I don't 
care to be associated longer with you, and the sooner 
I can get away, the better I'll be pleased. Do I 
make myself clear? 

Herrick. (Fairly choking zvith rage) Leave my 
office, sir. Now. — At once ! 

(They glare at- each other, as if about to come to 
blows, hands clenched and eyes biasing. There 
is a tense silence. Then Gracie's voice is heard 
off stage, calling "Muvver!" Enter Gracie. 
She comes feeling her way through the dark 
draperies over the door centre. She is a little 
girl, with golden hair gathered into a curly top- 
knot. Her zvide-open eyes are blue. She is 
dressed in a long white nightgown. She comes 
in very slowly, feeling her way with hands held 
gropingly before her.) 

Gracie. (Calling softly) Muvver ! (Listens ex- 
pectantly.) 

(Both men stare at her in amazement.) 

Herrick. (To Gracie) Who are you? 

Gracie. I'm Gracie. 

Herrick. (At a loss) Well, wha — what do you 
want? 

Gracie. I wants muvver. Isn't she here? 

Herrick. No. 

Gracie. Oh, dear, I'm so tired! I walked up 
ever so many steps. It's so dark, and I was 'fraid. 

Herrick. Afraid? Why? 

Gracie. 'Cause it was so dark, and I was 'fraid 
I'd fall. 

Herrick. Come here. (Gracie turns her head, 
but does not move. She holds out her hands as he 
goes to her and bends over, putting his hand on her 



14 IN THE DARK 

head.) Why, this child is ill ; she has a fever. Who 
is she, anyway? 

Ashfield. She's Mrs. Mason's little girl. 

Herrick. The janitress? 

Ashfield. Yes. 

Herrick. Well, why is she allowed to roam 
around the building at such an hour ? She ought to 
be in bed. Is her mother crazy? 

(Voice of Mrs. Mason heard outside.) 

Mrs. Mason. (Outside) Grade! Gracie, dear! 

(Enter Mrs. Mason, left centre, hurries across stage 
and stops. Looks at doctor in surprise.) 

Herrick. (Gruffly) What's this child doing up 
at this time of the night? What do you mean by 
letting her run around this way when she has a 
fever? Have you no sense? A pretty mother you 
are! 

Mrs. Mason. (Stammering) Doctor, I — 
Herrick. What? More talk? (Turns on his 
heel tozvard desk.) Take the child back to bed. 

(Gracie, confused, starts to walk ahead and bumps 
into his legs.) 

Gracie. Oh ! 

Herrick. (Looking down at her) Well, why 
don't you look where you're going, little girl? 

Gracie. It's so dark. I can't see. 

Herrick. Dark? . 

Mrs. Mason. (In strangled voice, with half- 
outstretched hand) Doctor — she's blind. 

Herrick. Blind? 

Ashfield. It's condensation of the lens. 



IN THE DARK 15 

Herrick. What? (To Mrs. Mason) How long 
has she been in this condition ? 

Mrs. Mason. For some time. 

Herrick. Some time? Why haven't you had it 
attended to? 

Ashfield. It's your operation. Doctor Herrick. 
No one else can do it. 

Herrick. Well, you know I can't do it now. 

Mrs. Mason. (In horror) You don't mean — it's 
too late? 

Herrick. I don't know. I can't tell. I'll have 
to look at her eyes. (Starts toward Gracie.) 

(Mrs. Mason springs fonvard, losing control of 
herself and becoming more and more hysterical 
until she is almost incoherent. In this speech 
the actual zvords mean nothing. They are sim- 
ply to indicate a hysterical outburst.) 

Mrs. Mason. Oh, it can't be true, it can't be 
true! God wouldn't be so cruel. My little Gracie, 
my baby, my baby ! 

Herrick. (Turning quickly and seizing her by 
the shoulders) Come, come! Stop it now, stop it! 
Pull yourself together. There, there now. Ash- 
field ! (Makes a gesture with his head. Ashfield 
comes over and puts arm about Mrs. Mason, help- 
ing her to his chair. Herrick strides over to 
Gracie, muttering) It's gone so long — (Bends 
down and picks up child in his arms. Szvceps papers 
from desk to floor and sets Gracie on corner of 
desk. Szvitches on electric light and turns it full 
tozvard her face.) Can you see any better here? 

Gracie. No. All dark. 

(Herrtck makes gesture of disappointment. Lifts 
first one lid and then the other. Gracie shrinks 
a very little.) 



16 IN THE DARK 

Herrick. Don't be afraid, little girl, I won't 
hurt you. (Examines her eyes. Business.) 

Gracie. (Cuddling up close to him and speaking 
in a confidential, pleading' tone) If I'm a very 
good girl, can I see my dolly to-morrow? 

(Herrick shows strong emotion, which he tries to 
conceal. Looks at child and strokes her hair. 
Lifts her down off the desk. Very quictlv to 
Mrs. Mason) 

Herrick. Take the child back to bed before she 
catches cold. (Mrs. Mason looks at him in silent 
agony.) Well, well, don't wait. Go on. 

(Mrs. Mason picks up Gracie, turns and slowly 
exits. ) 

Ashfield. (Following them to door, looks out 
after them, then turns and comes down toward Her- 
rick) You mean it's too late, Doctor? You can't 
do it? 

Herrick. (Explosively) Of course I can do it. 
But. you know — (Looks down at papers.) Pick 
up that address and straighten it out. What are 
you standing there for? 

Ashfield. (Slowly) So that's the kind of a man 
you are. You think more of pandering to your per- 
sonal vanity at that convention than you do of that 
poor child's sight. Good night. Dr. Herrick — and 
good-bye. 

Herrick. Good night, eh? What the devil do 
you mean by talking to me like this? You imperti- 
nent young puppy ! A pretty secretary you are ! 
And what do you mean by not telling me about that 
child ? 

Ashfield. (Taken aback) Why, Doctor, you 
would listen. You were busy. I tried — 



IN THE DARK 17 

Herrick. (Working himself up into a state of 
righteous indignation) Bah ! I always knew you 
were an idiot, but I did give you credit for common 
humanity. A poor innocent little child like that ! 
You knew I could help her, and you wouldn't tell 
me! I'm surprised, I'm amazed at you! I never 
saw such callous indifference to human suffering in 
all my life! 

Ashfield. (Protesting) But I tried — 

Herrick. You tried? Yes; you're always try- 
ing. Now see if you can do something. Go down- 
stairs and tell that woman to have her child over at 
the hospital to-morrow morning at ten o'clock. 

Ash field. (In delight) You mean you're going 
to do it? 

Herrick. (Gruffly) None of your business 
what I'm going to do. You do as you're told. 
(Ashfield starts quickly up toward door.) And. 
Ashfield ! After you've done that, telephone to the 
Cunard Line and cancel my passage for to-morrow. 

Ashfield. But the convention, Doctor? Your 
address — - 

Herrick. Damn the address! (Ashfield 
struggles vainly with a smile. Suspiciously) What 
are you laughing at, eh ? I guess I can stay at home 
if I want to. I hate an ocean trip, anyway. I'm 
always seasick, you know that. What the devil are 
you waiting for? 

Ashfield. But, Doctor, my resignation — 

Herrick. Resignation be damned ! Who told 
you you could resign? When I'm through with you, 
I'll discharge you. Why didn't you tell me about 
this case quietly and calmly, instead of losing your 
temper and talking a lot of nonsense? You're not 
without brains, but, hang it all, sir, you have no self- 
control ! (Ashfield grins broadly.) Well, what 
are you giggling about now? 

Ashfield. I just want to say — 



18 IN THE DARK 

Herrick. Oh, of course! You want to talk, 
Now will you please give me a chance to get a word 
in edgewise once in a while ? Oh, go on, go on ! 

(Exit Ashfield. Herrick comes down, and picks 
up hair ribbon which has fallen from Gracie's 
curls. Looks at it with a tender smile.) 

Herrick. (Sympathetically) Poor little thing! 
Wanted to see her dolly — (Suddenly makes a dasJi 
for the door. Shouting) And, Ashfield ! Tell her 
to bring that doll, too ! (Comes down slowly to desk. 
Sees papers of address scattered about, picks them 
up and looks at them ruefully. Speaks half wist- 
fully, but with a suggestion of his usual irascibility) 
I didn't want to go to the damn convention anyway ! 

CURTAIN 



The Touch-Down 

A comedy in four acts, by Marion Short. 8 males, 6 females, but 
any number of characters can be introduced in the ensembles. Cos- 
tumes modern. One interior scene throughout the play. Time, 2 l /t 
hours. 

This play, written for the use of clever amateurs, is the story of 
life in Siddell, a Pennsylvania co-educational college. It deals with 
the vicissitudes and final triumph of the Siddell Football Eleven, and 
the humorous and dramatic incidents connected therewith. 

"The Touch-Down'? has the true varsity atmosphere, college songs 
are sung, and the piece is lively and entertaining throughout. High 
schools will make no mistake in producing this play. We strongly 
recommend it as a high-class and well-written comedy. 

Price, 30 Cents. 

Hurry, Hurry, Hurry 

A comedy in three acts, by LeRoy Arnold. 5 males, 4 females. 
One interior scene. Costumes modern. Plays 2J4 hours. 

The story is based on the will of an eccentric aunt. It stipulates 
that her pretty niece must be affianced before she is twenty-one, and 
married to her fiance within a year, if she is to get her spinster 
relative's million. Father has nice notions of honor and fails to tell 
daughter about the will, so that she may make her choice untram- 
meled by any other consideration than that of true love. The action 
all takes place in the evening the midnight of which will see her 
reach twenty-one. Time is therefore short, and it is hurry, hurry, 
hurry, if she is to become engaged and thus save her father from 
impending bankruptcy. 

The situations are intrinsically funny and the dialogue is sprightly. 
The characters are natural and unaffected and the action mov v es with 
a snap such as should be expected from its title. Price, 30 Cents. 

The Varsity Coach 

A three-act play of college life, by Marion Short, specially adapted 
to performance by amateurs or high school students. 5 males 6 
females, but any number of boys and girls may be introduced in the 
action of the play. Two settings necessary, a college boy's room and 
the university campus. Time, about 2 hours. 

Like many another college boy, "Bob" Selby, an all-round popular 
college man, becomes possessed of the idea that athletic prowess is 
more to be desired than scholarship. He is surprised in the midst of 
a "spread" in his room in Regatta week by a visit from his aunt 
who is putting him through college. Aunt - Serena, "a lady of the old 
school and the dearest little woman in the whole world," has hastened 
to make this visit to her adored nephew under the mistaken impression 
that he is about to receive the Fellowes prize for scholarship. Her 
grief and chagrin when she learns that instead of the prize Robert 
has received "a pink card," which is equivalent to suspension for poor 
scholarship, gives a touch of pathos to an otherwise jolly comedy of 
college life. How the repentant Robert more than redeems himself, 
carries off honors at the last, and in the end wins Ruth, the faithful 
little sweetheart of the "Prom" and the classroom, makes a story of 
dramatic interest and brings out very clearly certain phases of modern 
college life. There are several opportunities for the introduction of 
college songs and "stunts." Price, 30 Cents. 

(The Above Are Subject to Royalty When Produced) 
SAMUEL FRENCH, 28-30 West 38th Street, New York City 

New and Explicit Descriptive Catalogue Mailed Free as. Request 




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0017 401 379 2 

The Return of Hi Jinks 

A comedy in four acts, by Marion Short, author of "The Varsity 
Coach," "The Touch-Down," etc. 6 males, 8 females. Costumes 
modern. One interior scene. 

This comedy is founded upon and elaborated from a farce comedy 
in two acts written by J. H. Horta, and originally produced at Tuft's 
College. 

Hiram Poynter Jinks, a Junior in Hoosic College (Willie Collier 
type), and a young moving picture actress (Mary Pickford type), are 
the leading characters in this lively, modern farce. 

Thomas Hodge, a Senior, envious of the popularity of Jinks, wishes 
to think up a scheme to throw ridicule upon him during a visit of 
the Hoosic Glee Club to Jinks's home town. Jinks has obligingly acted 
as a one-day substitute in a moving picture play, in which there is a 
fire scene, and this gives Hodge his cue. He sends what seems to 
be a bona fide account of Jink's heroism at a Hoosic fire to Jink's 
home paper. Instead of repudiating his laurels- as expected, Jinks 
decides to take a flyer in fame, confirms the fake story, confesses to 
being a liero and is adored! by all the girls, to the chagrin and dis- 
comfiture of Hodge. Of course, the truth comes out at last, but 
Jinks is not hurt thereby, and his romance with Mimi Mayflower 
comes to a successful termination. 

This is a great comedy for amateurs. It is full of funny situations 
and is sure to please. Price, 30 Cents. 



J 



ttne 

A most successful comedy-drama in four acts, by Marie Doran, 
author of "The New Co-Ed," "Tempest and Sunshine," "Dorothy's 
Neighbors," etc. 4 males, 8 females. One interior scene. Costumes 
modern. Plays 2 J4 hours. 

This play has a very interesting group of young people. June is 
an appealing little figure, an orphan living with her aunt. There are 
a number of delightful, life-like characters: the sorely tried likeable 
Mrs. Hopkins, the amusing, haughty Miss Banks of the glove depart- 
ment, the lively Tilly and Milly, who work in the store, and ambitious 
Snoozer; Mrs. Hopkins's only son, who aspires to be President of the 
United States, but finds his real sphere is running the local trolley 
car. The play is simplicity itself in the telling of an every-day story, 
and the scenic requirements call for only one set, a room in the 
boarding house of Mrs. Hopkins, while an opportunity is afforded to 
introduce any number of extra characters. Musical numbers may be 
introduced, if desired. Price, 30 Cents. 

Tempest and Sunshine 

A comedy drama in four acts, by Marie Doran. 5 males and 3 
females. One exterior and three interior scenes. Plays about 2 hours 

Every school girl has revelled in the sweet simplicity and gentle- 
ness of the characters interwoven in the charms that Mary J. Holmes 
commands in her story of "Tempest and Sunshine." We can strongly 
recommend this play as one of the best plays for high school pro- 
duction published in recent years. Price, 30 Cents. 

(The Above Are Subject to Royalty When Produced) 
SAMUEL FRENCH, 28-30 West 38th Street, New York City 

New and Explicit Descriptive Catalogue Mailed Free en Request 



